I See Dumb People

I believe it is essential in life for every person to have two things: A hobby and an opinion. Now for some* narrow-minded people who will cling to my every word, I would like to clarify that there are other important things in life as well; but now I will write about (and I repeat) having a hobby and an opinion.
When I got the opportunity to write my own column, I was pleasantly surprised that more than 1000 people in Lebanon actually read; and like every other writer; I have received positive feedback and negative remarks (some that are very politely and respectfully written, and others, . . . well . . . ). Once again, to the narrow-minded ones; I do not mean “read” as in “A-B-C-D-E”, I mean it in the sense that you actually take the time to buy a book that you can: read before sleeping, read on a plane, read while lying down by the pool.
I was even more happy to know that while browsing the internet, some* people decided to navigate away from Facebook, Youtube, poker, and/or porn sites to take a few minutes to read online (it must have been difficult, so good job!). Most Readers understand my point of view, don’t take it too seriously, laugh about it, and move on with their lives. Some* readers though apparently have two-digit IQ’s and cannot comprehend a sentence that exceeds 4 words, so they understand 10 words out of 600, find themselves super offended, and start dreaming up ways of how to make me cry. The closest they can get is something that sounds like this:

“Who you sink you are? you have no right to over-generaleyes, because not all people like zis. best luck for your write because you suck! You suck! You suck! People don’t believe zis *****, hear me instead because iz clear zat I know what I am talk about! . . . You Suck!”
 Signed, Big F to the A to the G.

Oh . . . Shut up . . . and please write this down on a piece of paper and swallow it: “I must learn how to understand what I am reading, in terms of its content and message. I must also take some English classes and learn how to write before I attempt to express another lonely thought through writing. Finally, I must buy my very first book, ‘Freedom of Speech for Dummies’ and acknowledge the fact that I am indeed, a dummy”.

(When someone gives me a remark like the one above, the only pain I feel is from the strain in eyes and brain while I desperately try to understand and decipher what I am reading.)

So, back to the beginning: Hi, my name is Rita Dahdah. I am an average person that loves to express her opinions through writing. Writing is my hobby, and my articles (opinion pieces) will remain MY opinion forever; I promise that they will never become a written law that would forbid some* of you from acting like the idiots that you are.
You don’t have to accept my opinion, but you must respect it (it is part of being civilized). If you have something to say, start a blog and spread the word.
Food for thought #1: even if there’s no law against the behavior I am mocking, reasonable people will still laugh at it.
Food for thought #2: if some* of you find yourselves awfully offended after reading something I wrote, it is quite probable that you fall right into the category I am mocking (even if you have super-duper English and a three-digit IQ, you are not entitled to be a “holier than thou” philosophizer who feels the need to argue about air).
That being said, I want to thank all of you who are reading “La Wlooo” on a weekly basis, and I hope that you’re enjoying reading it as much as I’m enjoying writing it.
Lebanon has so much talent; whether it’s an upcoming designer, painter, sculptor, singer, actor (you know, the interesting jobs that make NO money in this country), let’s support each other, help each other fulfill our dreams, and show the world what Lebanon is really made of.
Peace everyone; keep your hearts beautiful and your minds drama-free.

*some: this precaution was taken so that some people don’t end up getting a gum inflammation because of over-generalization.

 “When I'm hungry, I eat. When I'm thirsty, I drink. When I feel like saying something, I say it.” Madonna

Fighting Football Fever

Lebanese Football fans gave a whole new meaning to the FIFA World Cup 2010. Here are the guidelines they followed in order to transform football fever into a tribal battle.

1. You are either a German or Brazilian Fan: because you have no knowledge of football whatsoever and no clue about what other teams are playing.

If you are a German fan, you have the right to be angry (not sure why), and hold up a German flag or preferably a Nazi flag (because God forbid that Lebanese people go one day without affiliating everything with some form of politics).

“How can you not love the home of Mercedes Benz, BMW, Michael Shumaker, and Hitler?” said a German fan. Jeez, such deep relevance! Bear in mind that 80% of these hardcore fans have never been to Germany and are in no way linked to the country.

If you are a Brazilian fan, there is no need for a sweater. If you get cold, just wrap a Brazilian flag around your shoulders. You are the cheery, samba-dancing, ‘carnaval’ folk that wears yellow to every game, so that street lights (and/or the sun) aren’t needed anymore. You tell tales of how babies in Rio play football in the sand every day before they learn to walk. “Have you ever been to Brazil?” “Oh no, but I’ll be going in 2014 for the next World Cup – and my great, great, great grandmother is Brazilian”, said a delusional Brazilian fan.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-fighting-football-fever/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Man! Make Her Feel Like a Woman!

1. You complain she’s a gold digger, yet you take out a car loan to flaunt your expensive ride and live a showoff-ish lifestyle that you can barely afford because “that’s the only way she’ll ever look at you” – Ha! Well, what kind of girl were you expecting? The saddest part is, some men end up marrying these women. It’s simple, if you want someone true, keep it real!

2. You are NOT her father! You should never tell her how to dress, talk, eat, or laugh. Never tell her who she can’t talk to, and don’t smother her with constant phone calls when she’s out with friends. She has a brain of her own and knows her boundaries – if she doesn’t, then she’s not the girl for you.

3. You are not her bodyguard; if there’s a guy who is up in her business, she can take care of it – and don’t interfere unless she asks you to. There is nothing more vulgar than a guy starting a public fight to defend HIS macho ego.

4. A little jealousy is nice – too much is borderline psychotic. You have no right to accuse her of being a whore because she has male friends – it’s not like she is fornicating with them for Pete’s sake! When in doubt, hear her side of the story before transforming into the mighty Hulk.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wloo0-man-make-her-feel-like-a-woman/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

How To Lose a Guy in 10 Ways

To all you ladies out there who ever wondered why a certain relationship didn’t work out for you, I am sure you can relate to at least 3 of the following – sadly enough, I can relate to at least 5!

To all you men out there, I am pretty sure you’ll enjoy reading this more than the ladies, but it’s your turn next week. Read on:

1. You’re a part of your man’s life, you’re not his universe. He has friends and family that he’s known before you were born; so if you cannot accept it, go get the extra attention from your parents.

2. So what if he’s the guy? It wouldn’t hurt you to invite him to dinner every once in a while and offer to pay or split the bill a few times. Being a selfish princess is not sexy anymore.

3. If you’re a lady, he’ll be a gentleman – it is the simple truth. I do not see anything healthy about how couples here play dirty mind games on each other. It is tiring and definitely cannot last forever.

4. You are NOT his mother. If he wants to drive like a maniac, drink beer till he vomits, or stay up all night playing poker, it is not your responsibility to scold him about it. You can either accept him for the immature infant that he is, or break up with him and find yourself a real man.

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-how-to-lose-a-guy-in-10-ways/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

The Lebanese (Lira) Love Affair

When the typical Macho Man and Bimbo Barbie hit it off, we can safely assume that they’ll be married by the summer that follows. As pessimistic as I am, marriage is sacred to me – I am ready to die alone unless I marry “The One”.

In Lebanon, many women share similar beliefs – the average Bimbo Barbie is a gold digger that is searching for “The RICH One”. It doesn’t matter if he’s educated, cultured, or well traveled. His background, family, and history don’t matter either. All that matters is what’s parked in his garage, resting in his pocket, and sleeping in his bank account. Instead of asking questions like “Where did you go to school?” and “What do you do for a living?” she asks questions like “What car do you drive?” and “How much money do you make?”

To continue reading, please follow this link:

http://www.beirutnightlife.com/news/la-wlooo-the-lebanese-lira-love-affair/

I am now writing a weekly column called "La Wlooo!!", which is a new section on BeirutNightLife.com that provides a light mockery of the silly things happening around us every day.
Don't take it seriously, after all, it is simply a breath of fresh air – stating the obvious with a bit of humor and a change of perspective.

Summer Daze: Are You Part of the CRAZE?

 As summer is just around the corner, I can’t help but find my attention drifting towards the two most talked about issues in Lebanon during this season: Sky Bar and beach bodies. I also find myself dreading the very idea of stepping out of my apartment knowing that I’ll be running into people that literally have nothing else to talk about until the month of September. I also know that attempting to open another subject would be social suicide; so I simply go along with every discussion and pray that I do not fall asleep.

Stress levels always increase during this time of year because the general public are all extremely worried and running about frantically to get a table on the opening night of Sky Bar, while the crème de la crème of the party goers simply make one phone call to reserve the designated table that they’ve been hogging for the past 3 years (because only the selected few shall enter the gates of heaven). It doesn’t stop here though, because everyone wants to know who will be performing – last one to find out is a rotten egg. It gets worse this year because the venue recently underwent refurbishment to ensure that it can accommodate for a zillion more people. Almost everyone I know seemed to be pretty excited about this, but personally I was rather scared! What in God’s name could be so exciting about being stepped on every 2.5 milliseconds, and seeing every face you know in Lebanon under the same roof (or should I say, sky)?

Bimbo Barbie must tackle her first Sky Bar dilemma: What will she wear?
She will spend one month prior to Sky Bar’s opening searching for the perfect dress. She will then match the perfect shoes and earrings with it. Naturally after all this hard work, she must ensure that not one inch of that outfit goes to waste – but not to worry, because with Sky Bar’s new décor, everyone will see her strutting her stuff (and for those who don’t see her at the venue, all details will be posted on Facebook the next day). Too bad Sky Bar doesn’t open in the winter; Bimbo Barbie could have flaunted her lovely fur coat as well – tsk tsk.
Now for the second Sky Bar dilemma: What table will she be seen on?
Mind you, Bimbo Barbie will suddenly love sworn enemies again just because she got a phone call from one of them, inviting her to drink and dance the night away on their table.
First rule of thumb:  if you haven’t spoken to Bimbo Barbie in 15 years, you can call her up during Sky Bar season, invite her to your table, and she will come jogging all the way from her home.
Second rule of thumb: The better looking a girl is, the more invitations she’ll receive because who cares about brains in such a sexually charged environment? A table won’t be a success without its eye candy. In Bimbo Barbie’s case, all her friends already have their tables reserved months in advance, but she gradually climbs the social ladder and selects her Sky Bar group in terms of money and status (sadly enough in this case, those are judged by the car driven, and location of the table).

Macho Man arrives to Sky Bar - he’s got it all under control! The highlight of his night will be stepping out of his Porche/Ferrari/Range Rover/Maserati (nothing under one hundred thousand dollars, please) and pausing for a good 2 minutes as his torso is hanging halfway out of his car door so that every passing person can see the god that he is. He will eventually snap out of his narcissistic daze when he realizes that he’s holding up traffic and that the Valet is one step away from punching his lights out. He will then glide up the stairway to heaven, greet the bouncer as if it were his long lost brother, and secretly slip him a 100 dollar bill to ensure that he may continue slithering his way through the sweaty, dehydrated, and overheated crowd that will be waiting at the Sky Bar entrance every night that follows. As Macho Man reaches his table, he greets his “friends” - the Big Spenders - and begins ordering liters and liters of vodka and champagne - enough to intoxicate the entire population of South America - and will not stop drinking and staring at everyone else’s tables until the 12^th of never, or at least until one of the Bimbo Barbies gives him an ounce of attention. This is okay by Macho Man though, because the important thing is for others to see how cool he is to have gotten so many Hotties on his table. Macho Man will brag all summer long about how he can get a table at Sky Bar by just snapping his fingers, and will continue to brag about how the bill at his table is at least 3000 dollars every night (not to mention that he is dirt poor and takes out loans to pay for this luxury that he cannot afford). Of course the summer season will end with Macho Man reviewing his balance at the bank with tears in his eyes, wondering where it all went and making an oath to never repeat it again. Nine months later, lo and behold – it’s not a bird, it’s not a plane, it’s Macho Man on the same table he was on the previous summer, with the same Big Spenders, the same drinking, same staring, same no dancing policy; the only thing that has changed is the group of Bimbo Barbies that decided to join (the previous ones have socially climbed to another group of Macho Men).

As we are now in the lovely month of June, I finally realized that instead of bothering to shape up at the gym, I’ve been busy trying every new restaurant in the country. I must say, my body is far from being perfect for my swimsuits. Sometimes though, I do wake up in the morning feeling quite slimmer; turns out my blood has been sucked dry by some evil mosquito. After I complained to several thousands of uninterested people about how out of shape I am, I accidentally noticed that almost every girl I know decided not to care about bikini season either. I also realized that orange is the new pink and that man is the new woman! All I’ve been hearing from men for the past 3 months is “I am on a diet, I need to go to the gym, I skipped my boxing class, look at my belly, I’ve gained a jeans size.”
Oh – My – God!
I still cannot believe that a few months ago I was partying with some friends and Mr. Muscle who I hadn’t seen in years started a 20 minute conversation (or should I say, monologue) with me about his waist size, shoulder width, and washboard abs. As uninterested as I was, he still went ahead and showed me photos of himself flexing half naked – I was deeply disturbed . . . deeply! I patiently waited for the first awkward silence to occur and I danced my way far away from him. Prior to that, I was seriously considering introducing him to my friend – instead, I called her the next day and we laughed for hours. Later on, I found out that Mr. Muscle and a few other Muscle heads were all bragging about how they each bought their very own pair of pink swimming trunks (which apparently indicates how secure they are of their masculinity - Ggrrr) and couldn’t wait to show them off at La Plage while sipping on rose wine and watching the Baywatch Bimbos strutting around in 10 inch heels, pornographic swimsuits, Moulin Rouge make up (still intact from the previous night), and snobby attitudes to disguise how desperate they actually are to find a man.

Summer is my favorite season of the year. I love the beach, I love the sun, I love the tourists and the energy they bring, I even love Sky Bar; but that’s all ruined for me and for many other people when we are bombarded with Macho Men, Muscle Heads, Bimbo Barbies, and Baywatch Bimbos that just insist on transforming every venue into a run way or some sort of elitist club. There really is nothing classy about this behavior. Whatever happened to Havaianas, chiringuitos, and banana boats? And whatever happened to the simple concept of going out with friends, having fun, meeting new people, and dancing the night away? I think what we need in this country is a complete change of attitude and perspective as we let the good times roll.

Set off your summer with a blast!

"Example has more followers than reason. We unconsciously imitate what pleases us, and approximate to the characters we most admire." Christian Nevell Bovee

And Then Man "Evolved" Into Ape

It starts with Harry meeting Sally. Sally is not very interested at first but figures, “what the heck have I got to lose?” (Well Sally, you are in for a lovely surprise). Harry detects that he is more interested than Sally so he tries his best to woo her by calling every day, talking to her on the phone for hours, picking her up, taking her out to nice dinners, taking care of the bill, introducing her to his circle of friends, family members, doing those little sweet gestures that would melt any girl’s heart, and then blah. 

By blah, I mean everything else that follows when Harry’s mask comes off. As Lana Turner once said, “A gentleman is simply a patient wolf”. Every man will pretend to be the perfect guy until he a) gets bored, b) gets what he wants (and this could range from sex, to falling in love, to getting it up his ass), or c) gets COMFORTABLE. Once Harry secures Sally’s interest and realizes that she is just as interested as he is (or maybe more), he will start to act comfortable (and by comfortable, I mean he will transform into a complete disgusting and inconsiderate slob/pig/primate). In this blog entry, I would like to emphasize on the signs of comfort – To state a few:

Harry starts calling less: apparently now, he has more work, less time, and has to sleep earlier – he will even give Sally the “my phone bill was too high last month”. (Umm, why wasn’t this a problem before?) My advice to Harry here is, maintain the same frequency from the beginning because Sally’s ears are never pleased to hear that a phone bill is more important than calling her. Further into the relationship, Sally requires more attention from Harry, not less (you morons).

Harry tells Sally to meet him instead of going to pick her up: is petrol the issue now? Not quite. He just can’t be bothered because he is not aiming to please anymore – he knows that silly Sally will get into her car and drive all the way to see his sorry ass. What Harry doesn’t know, is that Sally now prefers driving down in her car so that she can leave whenever she starts feeling like castrating or beheading hairy Harry.

Harry starts burping and farting in front of Sally: This is a complete NO-NO!!!  Although Sally is a burper herself and enjoys it, most girls DON’T. This brings me to FARTING; I am sure no girl on the planet will tolerate that, not even silly Sally.
For example, Jockstrap eventually started releasing gas in front of me and was certain that I should be honored to bask in the ambiance of his farts because I was one of the chosen few that he could be himself around (please do NOT be yourself in this case) – no girl is looking to date a Homer Simpson.
Sadly enough, Harry does think that Sally should be flattered when he does this because it means he is comfortable (Congratulations Sally, Harry is now a pig). Ok Harry, this may come as a shock to you, but horrible odors have never been and will never be flattering to Sally’s ego, you idiot. The boys may find this charming, but Sally is a girl – if you are aiming to charm men, please switch to dating them instead and make the world a better place.

Harry prefers staying in with Sally: Instead of taking Sally out to dinner and a movie, Harry prefers staying in to scratch his balls and ass, order food, and watch some boring as frick DVD. His way of saying it would be, “I feel like cuddling up on the couch with you tonight – no people around, just you and I” - Remember that anything with a penis cannot be this honest or gay. Sally personally loves staying in and renting a DVD and ordering food, but unfortunately, this scenario has only gone in one direction for Sally: Harry falls asleep, snoring, while watching the movie as Sally plays Sudoku, wishing that she were at the beach with someone that looks like Gerard Butler.
Harry complains about how Sally stopped fixing herself up for him when they reached a certain level of comfort. Well, Sally doesn’t exactly enjoy walking around in 7 inch heels all the time, wearing mascara, blush, and tight clothes – if Harry wants Sally to dress up, he should make sure there is an occasion that makes it worthwhile!

Harry’s actions don’t support his words: Harry probably watches too many movies so he learns a lot of lines and thus, says the sweetest words - yet he does the stupidest, most awful things (how comfortable/lazy has Harry become?). It’s very simple: Sally should never listen to a single word Harry says, she should pay attention to what he does instead. Men used to wage wars, invade countries, and cross oceans to win a woman’s heart – all we’re left with now are Pansies who think that a bouquet of roses and three cheesy words “I love you” would suffice (excuse me while I vomit).

Harry becomes the king of pathetic excuses: for every stupid thing he does, there’s an even stupider excuse for why he did it. Mind you, Harry is either genuinely stupid, or he is faking his stupidity because he believes that in fact, Sally is.
For example, I once called Couscous and he didn’t call back until half a day later. At that point I had semi-lost my mind and was sure that he was cheating. His excuse was, “if I called my mother and she didn’t pick up, I wouldn’t think she’s cheating, would I? Would I?!” (SERIOUSLY?!?!)

Okay now boys, there is one thing you must understand: if you want your woman to continue being a lady around you (and not become your mother) you must not turn into a child, and you must NEVER compare her to your mother. No woman enjoys babysitting and NO woman enjoys mama’s boys or Man-ginas (a man with a vagina).

After Harry has transformed into the infant that is himself, there’s no turning back unless he realizes that Sally has lost all her love and respect for him. Sally has unfortunately come to realize at this point of her life that the minute she starts respecting a man, he stops respecting her – and the moment she truly starts to love him, he will stop loving her.

T.I.I.R.D. and I decided to take things slow. According to me (and anyone with a brain), that involves taking baby steps in every aspect: whether it’s emotional or physical. After a couple of months of “dating” T.I.I.R.D., the phone calls kept decreasing, and whenever he called he would say the cheesiest, corniest, most sexual things (this is a very big Turn-off boys!) and I realized that he wanted to take everything slow except the physical part. (Here’s a word of advice boys, stimulate a girl’s mind before you start groping her with your crazy hands!). Naturally, I was so appalled and so I decided to have a little discussion with him to inform him that I’ll be staying away from his crazy hands from now on. His rebuttal was, “we are not on the same level and I cannot be one-dimensional”. If there are any retards that can translate that for me, I’d be very grateful because no guy is allowed to say something that stupid. After hearing that, I felt like I was 13 again in the play ground while my boyfriend’s best friend is trying to break up with me on his behalf. Mind you, T.I.I.R.D. is a genuinely good guy – so imagine my shock and disappointment. (What is this world coming to?!)

When I was younger, my relationships were a lot more successful than they are now simply because I didn’t care and had no respect for any guy I know. At some point, I decided that it’s disrespectful to treat men like dirt, so I started respecting the man I’m with and focused on giving and not only receiving. That backfired because I forgot one major fact: men love to suffer –they love bitches, whether they want to admit it or not. I have always made fun of the younger generation of girls that I know, but as King Kong once told me, these are the girls that are doing it right - they are beautiful, selfish, materialistic, superficial, and ungrateful. The biggest proof I have is that all the good girls I know are single and all the bitches are either in relationships, engaged, or married.
Whatever happened to being a lady and getting a gentleman versus being a bitch and getting an asshole?  . . . . (?!?!?!?!)
So, why do men love bitches? Simply because they’re dogs (or wish they were).

“As long as you know men are like children, you know everything!” Coco Chanel